I thought I loved him when he went away; I love him now in another degree: he is more my own. [... ] Oh! a thousand weepers, praying in agony on waiting shores, listened for that voice, but it was not uttered—not uttered till; when the hush came, some could not feel it: till, when the sun returned, his light was night to some!

Villette: Easyread Large Edition (ed. 2009)